The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  ‘I hope he would respect me for choosing wisely.’

  Henke pulled up his horse. ‘I remember that night when I first saw you, in Lübeck with your sister.’

  Conrad stopped and looked up at him. ‘As do I. I will always be grateful for your help, Brother Henke.’

  Henke waved his hand at him. ‘That is not my point. Afterwards Rudolf was convinced that you were sent to us by God and he has always bent my ear ever since, saying that your actions in battle are proof that God has marked you out to be one of His chosen warriors.’

  ‘God has given me Daina.’

  Henke leaned forward, his cold eyes fixing him. ‘You chose Daina, Conrad, but God has not finished with you yet, mark my words.’

  He tugged on the reins, dug his spurs into his steed and went back to lance practice.

  Despite his indifference in the master’s hall Thalibald made Conrad welcome in his village. He gave his daughter away at the marriage that took place two weeks later where Otto was the priest. Conrad was delighted that Anton, Hans and Johann attended, all now brother knights and wearing the insignia of the Sword Brothers on their white surcoats. Rudolf, Lukas and Walter also attended and brought Ilona along, who gave Daina a silver necklace with silver ingots, upon which were etched good luck symbols: the Lifetree that celebrates the dawn, the crescent moon, the protector of warriors; Zalktis, the ancient serpent that brings well being; and Laima, the goddess of destiny and prosperity. Rameke and Waribule smiled when they saw it and Daina’s eyes lit up at the beauty of the piece. Rudolf and Lukas saw it but said nothing, though they did advise Daina to hide it from Otto who might take exception to a display of devilry and pagan superstition on God’s holy union of two of his lambs.

  Conrad embraced Ilona and thanked her for her gift. He had grown immensely fond of her during his time at Wenden, this tall, raven-haired woman who had brought Rudolf back to life. Otto never spoke to her, believing her to be sent by the devil to tempt the brother knights. But for their part the sergeants and brother knights loved her and held her in high esteem, seeing her as a sort of lucky mascot, which increased Otto’s wrath even more. But today his brutal features were all smiles as he stood before the couple in his white habit and sandals and read the sacred words from a bible.

  Most Livs wore varying shades of brown or green but Daina, being the chief’s daughter, wore a blue skirt and a white shawl adorned with bronze ornaments. Her white sash was also decorated with bronze and next to her Conrad looked like the poor farmer he was: a simple brown woollen tunic over a white linen shirt, brown leggings and boots. But he felt more prosperous at the feast afterwards when Thalibald gave the newlyweds the hut of a warrior who had been killed at Lehola. His childless wife was evicted to a smaller widow’s hut in the village, Thalibald instructing Conrad that it was his responsibility to feed her from the produce of his animal stock. When Conrad enquired what stock, Thalibald informed him that he was giving him two cows, six pigs, four goats and a dozen chickens. In addition to the crops that the villagers harvested from the fields, a portion of which went to Wenden, which was shared out among the inhabitants, Conrad would also supplement his household’s diet with what he caught hunting. Thalibald also gave Conrad a shield and a hunting spear so he could stalk boars.

  Normally Otto restricted his diet to coarse bread, vegetables, herbs and beans in accordance to the rules set down by the Cistercian Order, though at Conrad’s wedding he consumed vast quantities of pork, boar, duck and chicken, all washed down by copious amounts of medalus. His booming voice announced that as it was a special occasion it would be uncharitable to refuse Thalibald’s hospitality. He eventually passed out and Rudolf and Lukas had to carry him outside where they dunked his head in a water trough before leaving him to sleep off his stupor.

  The next morning, as Otto sat outside Thalibald’s hall nursing his sore head and swearing never to partake of alcohol again, Conrad said his farewells. As they were not marching to war the brother knights wore their swords but not mail armour. Instead all of them sported tunics of dark cloth and on their heads wore dark-coloured soft caps. They could all have been mistaken for merchants had it not have been for the white lightweight cloaks – mantles – draped round their shoulders. On the left shoulder on their cloaks they wore the red cross and sword of their order. This was to symbolise martyrdom for they fought and died in the service of God.

  Thalibald and his sons also gathered to say goodbye to their friends and allies, knowing that they would no doubt be marching to war together in the future.

  Rudolf shook Conrad’s hand. ‘The next time we will be fighting together you will be one of Thalibald’s warriors.’

  ‘I hope that there will be no more fighting, Brother Rudolf,’ said Daina, her arm tightly round Conrad’s waist.

  Rudolf nodded knowingly to Conrad. ‘Let us hope that it is so, child.’

  He kissed Daina on the cheek, said farewell to Thalibald and mounted his horse. Lukas shook Conrad’s hand. He pointed to the sword at his hip.

  ‘Keep it clean and sharp and do not forget how to use it.’

  ‘I will not, Brother Lukas.’

  ‘And treasure your wife more,’ was Ilona’s advice as she kissed them both on the cheeks before mounting the pony that she had been given by Rudolf.

  Walter embraced him and then Daina, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and asking God to bless their union. It was a solemn moment and Conrad believed that one day Walter would be a saint of the Holy Church, such was his piety and purity. Walter walked over to where Otto was still seated on the ground, gently lifted him to his feet and escorted him to the waiting donkey that would take him back to Wenden. Conrad embraced Anton and Johann, both of them proud and strong in their new garbs. His embrace with Hans was the most earnest.

  ‘We have come a long way since we first met in Lübeck, my friend,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Who would have thought that we would end up as we have,’ grinned Hans.

  Conrad was genuinely pleased for Hans, the orphan and thief whose neck had nearly been snapped on the gallows, had it not have been for the bishop’s intervention. He had been dealt a cruel hand in life but had overcome adversity to become one of Christ’s warriors. He was a living example of how good could triumph in the world.

  ‘We are waiting, Brother Hans,’ said Rudolf as the others sat on their horses. Hans grinned, embraced Conrad and Daina and mounted his horse. Otto weakly made the sign of the cross as he and the others trotted from the village to leave Conrad to begin his new life.

  *****

  Mindaugas was taller than Aras now. It was apparent as they stood beside each other and observed the scene of carnage that stretched out before them. Piles of twisted, bloody corpses littered the ground. The stench of death was already filling the air, crows were circling overhead and had taken up position in the surrounding trees in expectation of a gory feast. Aras’ warriors were going through the dead, searching for anything of use that could be taken back across the Dvina when they returned to Lithuania. The smashed shields, broken spears and dented armour and helmets would be left behind but swords, functional crossbows and complete mail armour would be transported over the river in boats that were waiting less than a mile away.

  Aras began walking among the dead and dying, the majority of the latter either trapped under their slain horses or wedged under piles of dead. Mindaugas followed him, aware that he was very much a spectator to the triumph that had been his tutor’s. And what a victory it had been. Vsevolod had known that eventually the bishop would turn his attention to Gerzika. He knew that he would not be able to retain his stronghold in the face of a determined crusader assault. Years of peace had resulted in its defences being neglected and it would take a huge outlay of money to restore them to their former glory. He had neither the resources nor the time to do so, and in any case his army was small in comparison to the army that the bishop could send against him. So, despite Rasa’s initial hostility, he had taken the momentous
decision to abandon Gerzika and evacuate its population across the Dvina. Some had refused to go, especially among the outlaying villages where there was great hostility towards the Lithuanians. Many of the merchants had also refused to leave and so had been left behind to form a council that hoped to barter with the crusaders when they appeared before the walls.

  Vsevolod had been denounced as a coward and a traitor by the Orthodox priests in Gerzika, but when the crusader army arrived the merchants found that the only terms acceptable to the bishop’s servants was immediate surrender. And Gerzika’s priests discovered that the only religion acceptable to the crusaders was that practised in Rome and so they were expelled from Gerzika and their houses of worship plundered.

  Following their disappointment at Lehola the crusaders, led by Count Horton and Sir Jordan, had petitioned the bishop for a continuation of the war against the Estonians. They had reluctantly agreed that the Saccalians had sued for peace but there were other tribes. Surely they could despoil their lands? The bishop had strictly forbidden it. However, Grand Master Volquin had raised the matter of Prince Vsevolod and Gerzika. The prince’s duplicity and support for Daugerutis meant that he had to face punishment. Why not let Count Horton and Sir Jordan take their men and storm Gerzika? And so it came to pass.

  The two nobles led their forces south instead of west towards Riga, guided by Liv scouts provided by Thalibald and accompanied by Volquin’s five brother knights and ten sergeants from his office in Riga. Sir Helmold and his knights accompanied the two bishops and their ‘guest’ Lembit but the force that attacked Gerzika was considerable. Not only did it comprise the bulk of the troops that had fought at Lehola, it also included the knights and foot soldiers who had besieged Fellin. The latter had suffered no casualties due to a lack of siege engines, which meant there was no assault. Count Horton and Sir Jordan had arrayed their forces before Gerzika’s wooden walls, demanded its surrender and had been surprised when the gates were opened. After a week of rapine they had left a garrison to secure the stronghold and begun a leisurely march back to Riga with a host of wagons loaded with treasure.

  After their great victory Count Horton and Sir Jordan had dismissed the Liv scouts. They did not share the bishop’s or Sir Helmold’s fondness for these heathens who dressed and looked like the pagans they had come to butcher. They did not need them to show them the fifty miles downstream to Kokenhusen, which was unfortunate because had the Livs remained they most probably would have learned that over three thousand Lithuanian warriors crossed the Dvina one night to set an ambush for the crusaders. Sprung equidistance between Gerzika and Kokenhusen, it had been spectacularly successful.

  Aras stopped and turned to look at Mindaugas. ‘Repayment for your father’s death.’

  Mindaugas said nothing as he looked down at a man lying face up whose legs had been crushed under a collapsed wagon. He was groaning faintly, his eyes full of pleading.

  ‘He would have been pleased with you, Aras.’

  The latter picked up a mace at his feet and walked over the injured man, the wagon’s driver probably on account of his poor quality clothing and lack of armour.

  ‘It was Vsevolod who gave permission for the ambush.’ Aras stood over the wounded man and proceeded to smash in his head with the mace, reducing it to a disgusting bloody pulp that made Mindaugas grimace.

  ‘My father believed he was a coward.’

  Aras tossed the mace aside and continued walking among the crusader dead. He had launched his attack when the Christians were strung out along the track for miles, only a few of the knights wearing their armour in the summer heat. The attack achieved total surprise and overwhelmed the enemy before they had a chance to respond.

  ‘I admit he’s no warrior,’ agreed Aras, skirting a heap of Christian dead, ‘but he has a keen mind and is nobody’s fool.’

  Mindaugas caught up with him. ‘He wants me to marry his daughter.’

  They came to a wagon piled high with silver trays, cups and ornaments.

  ‘Have this transported back to the river,’ Aras ordered one of his subordinates who was guarding the plunder. ‘Prince Vsevolod should have his cutlery returned to him.’

  He took off his helmet and wiped his brow on his sleeve. It was unbearably hot.

  ‘Is she pretty, his daughter?’

  Mindaugas smirked. ‘Yes.’

  Aras replaced his helmet. ‘Child-bearing hips?’

  Mindaugas looked embarrassed. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Well then, sounds like a decent proposition. You like her?’

  Mindaugas shrugged. ‘I don’t dislike her.’

  Aras nodded. ‘That’s a good start. Get the men back to the river!’ he bellowed at a group of his officers examining a crusader banner. ‘And leave those barbarian flags behind. They are probably bewitched.’

  ‘My father warned me not to trust Vsevolod,’ said Mindaugas.

  Aras turned back to the boy. ‘At the moment Vsevolod’s interests are the same as yours. He wants to preserve the grand duke’s territories, defeat the other dukes and keep the Christians this side of the river. I’d say you have nothing to worry about for the moment.

  ‘Come on, let’s get back across the river before the garrison at Kokenhusen sends out a patrol to find out where their crusader friends are.’

  They walked towards the river as the Lithuanians began transporting their plunder back to the boats that awaited them. Mindaugas stepped over the body of a knight with a spear in its back. Had he stopped to turn it over he would have seen that it was Sir Jordan.

  *****

  The harvest around Wenden was excellent that year, the fields yielding a healthy bounty. Despite his change of lifestyle Conrad found that he took to the life of a farmer with relative ease. His life of a novice had been one of discipline, austerity and hard training; in Thalibald’s village he found that his daily routine was also long and hard, but with the lovely bonus of sharing a bed with his wife every night. Daughter of a chief she may have been but Daina had to undertake her fair share of work like all the other women of the village.

  In July she pulled up the flax and hemp in the garden at the back of their hut, laying them out in the sun before being retted, which involved her and the other women hauling them down to the nearest stream where they were placed in the water to rot away the fleshy parts of the plant. Once the fibres were clean they were beaten to separate them and hung up in strikes to dry them. The hemp was then ready to be wound into rope or cord and the flax placed on a distaff and spun into yarn.

  At the end of the day, after all the chores had been attended to, Conrad always spent an hour practising with his sword, going through the routines that Lukas had taught him. Afterwards, exhausted, he sat on the edge of the bed watching Daina spinning yarn.

  ‘Do you think that Master Berthold will summon you back to Wenden one day?’

  He ran a cloth over the weapon’s blade. ‘That would be very unlikely.’

  ‘Then why do you practise with it every day?’

  He slid the blade back into the scabbard and placed it on the hooks above his head. ‘Because I was taught how to use it and it would be an insult to Brother Lukas and Sir Frederick to forget the skills I was taught.’

  She stopped her spinning and looked at him, the light of the candles catching the glint in her eyes.

  ‘Who is Sir Frederick?’

  ‘He was a crusader lord,’ he said, ‘who died of his wounds at Fellin three years ago. It was his sword. He carried the symbol of a unicorn on his shield and banner.’ He pointed at the sword. ‘There are unicorns carved into the pommel.’

  ‘What’s a unicorn?’

  ‘A horse that has a horn on its head.’

  ‘Do such things exist?’

  He shrugged. ‘I have never seen one but I believe they live in a faraway land.’

  She went back to her spinning, a task that has been carried out by women for centuries.

  ‘You will tire yourself out with all that swo
rdplay. And you will need all your strength for the harvest. My father says that now the Estonians have accepted baptism there will be no more fighting. So you see, Master Berthold will not be calling on your services again.’

  Berthold may not have been calling upon his services but he sent some of his men to assist in gathering in the wheat, rye, barley and oats that had ripened in the fields. Hans, Anton and Johann came and drank too much medalus as they celebrated with their friend and toasted his good fortune. Rudolf and Lukas also came and accompanying the latter were ten scrawny, pale-faced boys who looked as though they would break into pieces at any moment.

  ‘Do you recognise them, Conrad?’ asked Lukas as he harvested wheat with a sickle, wielding it with the same effortless skill as he did when holding a sword. Conrad shook his head.

  ‘They are you.’

  Conrad stopped and looked at the boys struggling in the summer heat. ‘Me?’

  ‘A few years ago. They are novices fresh from Germany, wastrels, orphans, thieves and the like. Brought here to be moulded into sergeants, perhaps even brother knights.’

  Conrad looked at their pallid flesh and bony arms. ‘Good luck with that, Brother Lukas.’

  ‘I remember when I first clapped eyes on you,’ said Lukas, cutting a great swathe with his sickle. ‘You looked like them and Brother Hans was in a more parlous state. Look at you now, all muscle and strength. It is remarkable what good food and dry quarters can do.’

  ‘And a good instructor,’ smiled Conrad.

  ‘I hope you are not letting your sword go to waste.’

  ‘I practise with it every day, even though Daina informs me that I waste my time.’

  Lukas stopped, stretched his back and looked over at Conrad’s wife smiling and teasing Hans, Johann and Anton as she handed them ladles of water from the buckets she was carrying. ‘Marriage suits her, and you. But always keep the edge of your sword sharp, Conrad, and your skills sharper. Peace never lasts forever.’

  But that summer was gloriously peaceful and in the autumn the peas, beans and vetches were harvested and the oxen provided by Master Berthold were used to plough the fields for the sowing of the winter crops. The women collected wild fruit and berries and the wheat stubble was gathered in to mix with hay to create winter fodder. Rameke showed Conrad how to shoot a bow and together they went into the forest to hunt deer and elk. He also took part in the weekly gatherings of the village militia, which was when all able-bodied men aged sixteen and upwards gathered outside Thalibald’s hall to undergo training. This involved nothing more then marching outside the village and forming up into a shield wall, though Conrad found it useful as it acquainted him with the various horn calls used by Liv war bands: alarm, muster, attack, retreat and form shield wall. Aside from the full-time warriors who attended Thalibald most of the village menfolk were poorly armed and equipped with shields, spears, axes and a few helmets. And not even Thalibald had a sword to rival Conrad’s in terms of workmanship, balance and lightness.